She is happy when
She is with me, so
She rants on life and
She moans in passion, and
And though 15 years my senior, with
A certain look, or
A kiss behind the ear,
Will have her blushing and giggling
Like a schoolgirl.
And that’s all good, but laughter
And happiness doesn’t pay the rent.
She misses me when I’m not around, so
After three days of my absence, like clockwork
She calls, and
She looks back on the time
We spent together days ago, or the nights before.
I guess those memories keep
Her going, but
Memories don’t pay the rent.
I write this piece, as
I listen to poets, as
I drink, dance, and rant on stage.
She’s at home with the man
She pretends to love. And while
She’s in the bedroom watching TVLand,
He’s checking his MySpace page, while switching
His cell to vibrate.
Because in their home, there’s nothing going on but